


Miscellanious Bits

by Symmet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Thing - Freeform, experimental Cas/Sam, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabbles experimenting with the concept of Sastiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Follow

It was a small revelation that Sam Winchester was at the center of it all.

Castiel realized it was not the Winchesters that were so chaotic, but simply the one. For at the heart of all of Dean’s actions lay his love for Sam.

And Castiel regarded Sam Winchester initially with all the abhorrence that was common for an abomination - tainted as he was with the blood of a demon cursing his veins.

Once Samuel had been cleansed, however, Castiel was taken aback to find his true virtue could be masked but not changed.

Sam Winchester’s soul was incorrigible at the core.

He had reveled - as they all had reveled - at the soul of Dean Winchester. It was beautiful, it was great.

But it was the result of devotion to his Father and love for his brother.

And so it was that Sam Winchester’s soul was ethereal, alike a grace in it’s emotion.

And it seemed the righteous soul was weak to a pure one. Dimmed in both passion and power by comparison.

And so it was that Lucifer, brighter than his brother, who so revered his Father, was cast out, but retained every facet of his cold magnificence.

So he falls for Sam Winchester.

And it is one of those days whilst he is human - so completely and irrevocably, long after his fall but somehow still grounded in that same moment - that he ends up lying flat on the ground after they had just barely managed to subdue and then kill one very reluctant vampire.

It is the moment he is truly accepted as a hunter, not just a burden, or a family member, but a hunter. Dean giving him a small nod, almost insignificant, and yet he’d been training for weeks for such a subtle show of approval. As he looks over the decapitated body for any signs of life, Sam walks towards him, taking those great, long strides that only a human of his height could accomplish unless spurred on by an anomaly of grace.

Which no one here has.

Sam is beaming at him with pride, not the kind that Lucifer is so quick to feel, but the warmer kind, that does not vault idols to places of worship, but Castiel to the place of respect.

As if falling so gracelessly - every pun intended - is not even remotely worth acknowledging as a hunter, but every bit human. And Sam likes to remind him kindly, as if it is more than okay, it is good.

Castiel is pushing himself up on his elbows, when suddenly a shadow falls across his vision, and he looks up to see Sam has stopped at his knees, still grinning, and offers his hand. He pulls Castiel up with barely a grunt to clap him on the back. Castiel, whom he once could not have moved a thousandth of a millimeter should the angel have wished it. Now, his power is reduced to the weight of this borrowed body, which the hunter handles with little trouble.

And as he returns the smile, subdued, but still true, he cannot help but think that Lucifer no doubt greeted the fallen who had followed him in much the same manner.


	2. Umbrella

Sam took his time realizing that Castiel never got wet. Or rather, certainly not when it rained. The rain parted some place above his head and never once seemed to touch his head, instead choosing to patter indifferently at his feet.

It was in the middle of a hunt that the phenomenon suddenly became blatantly obvious but at the same time irrelevant.

It was the middle of a hunt, after all.

This was towards the end of Castiel’s status as an angel - he was starting to get more snappish every time they pulled him away from his god hunt - which Sam could understand, given that not so long ago that had been him and Dean.

There had been a dead end, and to top it all off, it had begun to rain.

They were in Florida during the wet season.

It began to rain _hard_.

Castiel only took the briefest moment to realize - _oh, humans, getting soaked, maybe not a good human thing?_ \- and then he stepped right up to them. Dean did not begin he usual tirade of ‘personal space’, and Sam was glad.

Cas was like a portable anti-storm.

Or a giant, invisible umbrella.

Either way, he asked if they could cut the hunt short and perhaps resume it in the morning. Dean did not like that.

Before Sam could intervene, they had _words_ , and there was that signature sound of wings flapping before they were almost completely drenched through.

Sam was too busy trying to decide if he was angry at Dean for causing their sudden state as lakes or at Castiel for leaving him with a very grouchy Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester pissed resulted in Dean Winchester stubborn.

By the time they got back to the motel, in the wee hours of the morning, Sam was silently cursing Castiel for not having the kindness to at least take Sam with him, because Dean had refused to drop the case.

Either way, Sam didn’t get to take out nearly enough of his frustrations on the rogue Werewolf they had been hunting, if only because pissed off Dean is also an excellent shot.

It wasn’t until much later, when Castiel was human, and they were caught in a light drizzle - Portland - that Sam realized Castiel hadn’t been using his grace to catch the rain but his wings, sheltering them from the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind this too much it was a little experiment. They were typed in one sitting and remain largely unedited. I was just playing around with the concept of Sastiel, which until then had been unknown to me. This was, of course, remedied via tumblr.


	3. Aberrations and Space Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean **a)** wants Sam and Cas to be happy, possibly together and **b)** wants to understand. But he's not supposed to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I apparently wrote another one at some point. Don't remember when, but I'll just put it here. Seems a bit unrequited Destiel if you kind of turn your head and squint.

It takes him a long time to learn that Cas is - always has been - their awkward little angel, but he’s more so then when he blankly waits for Sam, standing at his side, as if charting out the invisible lines of personal space Dean had once had to remind him daily of. He seems to know it instinctively with Sam. 

It takes a long time for Dean to recognize the small, almost smile he likes to wear when they say something that quirks his strange humor, longer still to watch it curl out onto his face when Sam is being so ridiculously _Sam_. 

It takes a long time for Dean to notice how Castiel watches Sam, the same, worn look that’s always been on his face, sad like he can’t say all of the things he’s seen but has to remember, head tilted just every so slightly, so gently. 

It takes him too damn long to connect the dots, a constellation in the sky, _not star-crossed lovers_ , but maybe something like it. He wants to hit himself upside the head, hit Cas upside the head - hell, hit Sam upside the head for not knowing and almost prefering that it stay that way. Damn it. 

He wants to ask _How did it slip past my fingers? I hold on too tight to you to have missed it so badly. How did this happen? How did you **let** this happen?_

He wants to ask _When did this happen? When did you forget that everything I touch gets ruined and that goes for Sammy, too? When did you decide to love something I’ve destroyed far beyond your ability to heal? Why did you do this to yourself?_

He wants to ask _Why Sam, why couldn’t you fall in love with someone else whose life hasn’t been as fucked up by me as yours? Why did you return to the chaos and the goddamn pain, Castiel? Why couldn’t you make the safe choice?_

And the truth is he wants to ask more than anything _If. If I had done something differently, would it be like this? If I had been better, made the right decisions, would things have changed?_

_Would you both be far, far away from each other, happy and alive?_

“I don’t understand.” Is what he says to Castiel’s face, instead, haggard and flawless, head turned away from Dean, towards the little brother he’s always craved safety for. The little brother who lost everything for nothing. Who has no idea that one angel of the lord is in love with him. 

“It’s like Michael and Lucifer.” 

Castiel doesn’t turn to look at him, but they both feel Dean tense, fingers curling on old wounds, rusty chains wrapped tight around his wrists, unforgiven pains of Hell and all brought with it. 

Michael, the soldier. Lucifer, satan. Not sure what Cas is trying to say about Sam, but Dean’s not really liking it. 

Sam is moving a stack of books, a giant gentle in his mission. He doesn’t know what they’re talking about, doesn’t see them, too focused on the worn, battered covers, the pages he will harvest to collect the knowledge stored inside like wild honey, old and dangerous and magnificent. 

Like Cas, in a way. 

“I don’t -“ Dean starts again, but Castiel finally looks away from the younger Winchester, although he still does not turn back to Dean, eyes cast down, in the direction he had fallen for humanity and it’s broken beauty, for all that it had captivated him. 

“You would not understand.” Castiel says, firmly, sadly, like another megaton has just been shoved onto his spindly little shoulders, already framed in an oversized trench oat. 

There is no way to answer that, Dean is sure, and Castiel decides something along similar lines, because he turns to leave. 

Sam sees them then, a face empty and focused suddenly splitting into the smile Dean had fought so hard throughout their childhood to protect. Lately, when he sees it, he wonders if he even managed to protect it, or it was resilient all on it’s own. He gives one last once over for the books now boxed and walks over. 

“Cas! Hey, buddy. Something up?” 

For a moment, everything is still. Cas’ face is turned away from him, and yet Dean feels like they are sharing a look all the same. _He won’t tell, of course not, how could Cas even think…?_

Cas straightens, greeting with his own small smile, nodding at the pat on the back with a, “Hello, Sam.” He paused, still slightly smiling, “No. Nothing is ‘up’.” 

Sam grinned wider, “You stop by to visit us humans? Man, company up there must be pretty bad if you wanna hang out with us.” 

Dean cuts in, “Angels, Sammy. They got less personality than a pile of bricks.” 

They smile, grin, crowd close together, platonic and safe in that unquestioned assurance, and Cas is normal Cas and Dean lets it slip out of his mind because Sam wants to just share a beer and sit out back and stare at the night sky and revel in the almost silence of the world when everybody shuts up long enough to enjoy it. 

The two people he loves most in the world, right here next to him. Cas wedged between them as the look up at the great expanse of empty night. Of course, Castiel isn’t staring at the sky. His eyes are on Sam, haven’t they always been? And he’s smiling that sad, tired smile. Like he knows too many things that he can’t say. _Wouldn’t_ say. 

Isn’t that just what they are? 

A shooting star passes overhead, and Sam motions to it, “Make a wish.” he instructs Cas, who blinks, catches sight of the fading streak, “A human tradition?” 

“Yeah. You’re not supposed to say what you wish for, though.” 

Sam doesn’t see Castiel shake his head just a little, eyes crinkling, but Dean does, “Yes, Sam.” 

Dean makes a wish, too. It’s a stupid wish. Chances are, it’s the same wish Castiel has. Maybe if they both wish for it, it’ll get extra mojo. Of course, Dean never was the wishing, praying, dreaming type. 

Castiel twists his head sharply to look at Dean for one, agonizing moment, hearing the thoughts rolling around in Dean’s head, probably. Cas, _I’m not supposed to tell, now the wish is bust!_ He thinks to himself, sipping on his beer because chances are, a wish wasn’t gonna change much, anyways. 

Not for the Winchesters. And certainly not for any angel dumb enough to associate with them. 

Castiel turns back to face ahead, but Dean swears he catches a little smile in the moonlight. 

“I confess it befuddles me that humans should spend energy sending prayers to pieces of rock and gas that get eaten up by the atmosphere.” Castiel murmurs. 

Sam grins, “Any more befuddling than sending prayers to a God they have no proof of? I don’t know, Cas, lots of people think of angels as stars. Beautiful but distant, or whatever.” 

Dean leers at Sam from the other side of Cas, “Dude, you just called Cas beautiful but distant.” 

Sam snorts in annoyance, “Whatever, real mature, Dean.” He reiterates as he reaches behind Cas to take a half hearted swing at his brother. Dean grins, “Hey, no I want to hear more poetry. Lay it on me man, c’mon.” Sam shakes his head, both annoyed and embarrassed, not looking at Cas, who watches with his eyes trained on Sam, “hmmm.” Cas says, noncommittally, “Indeed.” 

Dean suddenly frowns, catching Castiel’s expression. He looked the same way someone looks at a secret, sad joke. 

“Like Lucifer,” He blurts suddenly in shock. Sam flinches, and Castiel’s gaze snapping to him, wary. 

The silence is prickly for a moment, but Dean hadn’t said it with any emotion, just surprise, and it slips off their hurting chests into the cracks of the pavement as he begins to understand. 

“Morningstar or what…ever.” Dean mutters under his breath, as if he’s not sure if this is the right direction. Castiel gives one, tiny nod, then turns to face the stars again even if his eyes are on Sam, who is fidgeting just a little. 

Dean watches, and he wonders if he’s got the same look Cas does. 

It’s all clicking into place, sad and sharp. 

\- 

It’s later, after Sam retires for bed, and Cas has already left, that Dean goes back outside and calls his angel up. His angel. Was Cas even that anymore? While he waits, he spots another shooting star - piece of space dust, or whatever Cas said. 

He makes another wish to pass the time. 

A cool breeze and Cas is there, watching Dean intently for the first time that night. Dean shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t get how Sam hasn’t noticed this. 

“I used to think I was in love with you.” Is what Castiel says by way of greeting. 

Dean chokes a little on the dregs of beer in his throat, heart churning in his chest, “Well.” He says, noting that the awkward levels had just increased by four thousand percent. 

“I…” Castiel’s intensity wavers as his gaze slips to the ground, “I was unprepared for how I felt about Sam. I was trained to believe him to be a monster. I assumed my feelings for him were a result of my feelings for you. He’s the most important thing to you.” 

Dean takes a sharp breath but leans back on the hood of baby, listening, waiting. 

“I didn’t expect him to be so…” 

Castiel fumbles with the word for a moment, draws it out like a shriek on a violin, “ _bright_ once his body was cleansed of demon blood. I didn’t _want_ to find it so…” Castiel clears his throat, finally looking back up, “But I’ve come to terms with it.” 

Dean nods, slowly. He feels like his grip on this is coming back around. As if it never really slipped, more like he was just readjusting, making it better. After all, now Sam had a total of two people completely devoted to him having… whatever type of life this was. That doubled his chances since the last time Dean checked. 

“Have you?” Dean asked, not taunting, but actually curious, “You thought you loved me? What’s the difference?” 

Castiel looked away again, this time his gaze trained on the bunker, on a hunter perhaps already asleep, “Michael and Lucifer” Castiel finally answers tightly. 

When Dean doesn’t try to dig anymore out of him, he relaxes, looking Dean in the eyes again. 

“You were my leader.” Castiel says softly, “But Sam was our light.” 

Dean nods, wondering if Lucifer really had been the one to revive Cas. Sure as hell made more sense than God, who showed up a whooping total of never. The idea crawled around in his head and shivered down his spine. But Lucifer wasn’t who mattered. It was Sam. Hell, Cas and he were pretty close, unlike a certain dick angel Dean was being compared to. 

Sam was the whole point. 

He uncrosses his arms against the cold, patting baby as he gets off and clapping Castiel on the shoulder in hetero confidentially, because he’s had enough emotional sharing for now, because this isn’t a conversation Cas should be having with him, but someone else. 

He starts walking inside, “You should tell him.” He calls out softly behind him. 

There is no answer but the wind and the sound of the night. He feels reassured all the same, however. 

“You fell _because_ of me,” He says to no one in particular as he walks the hall to his room, “but then you fell _for_ Sam.” 

He shakes his head with a humorless chuckle as he opens his door. But he’s not worried. 

After all, his _second_ wish had come true. 

Maybe the first one was on it’s way.


End file.
